More wrenches

The last few months have been such an insane roller coaster that nothing should surprise me at this point. And yet, when we got the call Friday that our buyers had backed out, I really wasn't expecting that. Especially since this buyer confirmed weekly that they were still interested and we were 10 days from the close date. They walked away because they re-ran their calculations and wanted to offer slightly less, which in our situation jeopardizes the whole process and would have to go back to the approval board.

The good news is we now have another buyer that allegedly really wants the house and was able to step into the void. This doesn't have to go back to the board, but still required review and approval and more time.

At this point, we're still planning to move this weekend (assuming our rental is actually ready, although I have my doubts about that, too). The rental market is really tough right now and we don't want to end up without a place to go, or settling for something that really doesn't meet our needs. Plus, we have a lot of specific criteria (dog friendly, kid friendly, specific area, 3 bedrooms, etc.), so we don't have too many choices. And our realtor feels really confident that this is all going to go through with this buyer for several reasons. So here's what we're praying for:

1. A quick process with our lender, and that they would not require additional payment for the extended time (also, lender, we've paid you every single penny of our mortgage plus some, and we settled privately with our second mortgage so you don't have to pay them anything, and we don't have buckets of money sitting around, so if you could just cut us some slack and be cool, that would be awesome). We'd also really like to hear from them before we actually move.  Tomorrow would be great.

2. The buyer's loan would go through quickly which would expedite the process. 

3. The buyer actually goes through with this and actually buys the house.

Wrenches

You know what is super not cool?

When you're all ready to move on Saturday and you get a call the Monday before that the house isn't going to be ready Friday when it was supposed to be, or Saturday when you're supposed to move, or maybe even Sunday. So now that pushes the move that was supposed to happen at 8am Saturday to maybe late Sunday afternoon, or sometime midweek or the next weekend.

This is especially not cool when you have to, you know, move out of your house.  And all this happens after you've already signed the official lease and paid a deposit. And you've already scheduled days off, booked a moving truck, and everything you own is already packed in boxes. 

On the move!

Life is funny sometimes.

About, oh… 19 (or 20?) months ago, we decided to sell our house. It was a decision we agonized over. Like most people who bought when we did, the market didn’t quite turn out how we thought it would. Unique to us was the situation of our house and the massive amount of money we would need to invest in making our house merely functional. In the end, we decided to move forward with the short sale, considering baby #2 was on the way a little sooner than expected.

“Move forward” is not a term that should ever be associated with the sale of our home. Perhaps “creep forward, slide backward, stall, and then scoot one millimeter forward” might fit.

Today we got the miraculous news that we’re officially approved.  And we close on July 25. As in, 20 days. Also, a Wednesday. Also, the busiest time of our busiest month. The Saturday before that, the 21^st, is already busy with all kinds of festivities. So, it looks like we’re moving the 14^th. As in, less than 10 days.

Although we’re thrilled to be at the end of this road, the irony is not lost on me that we have waited MONTHS and MONTHS and now we have less than 10 days. As maddening as it is, we'll make it happen somehow!

Hello Summer!!!

I am totally and completely exhausted from last weekend's festivities of a preschool graduation program, Carter's birthday, followed by birthday party, a friend from college staying with us, and taking on ridiculous projects like going through my closet. Also, I purged about 75 pounds of clothes.

I am so excited for this summer and all the joy I hope it holds for our family, and a little madness (and gosh I hope there's a move in there somewhere). 

500 Days

This is a not so happy milestone. Today marks the 500th day since we put our house on the market.

500.

That's almost half of Carter's life, and significantly more than Avery's whole life.

That's 500 days of anxiety over what's next, stress/trying to have faith and find peace, being show ready with a toddler and a pregnant mama, a toddler and a newborn, a toddler, a baby and two parents working full time, now we're pretty much at toddler and preschooler. I don't even want to think about how many strangers have been in my home, judging my belongings and decor and probably thinking our very protective dog was going to lunge through the glass door and eat them. A year of a baby sleeping in our room because she's too loud for her brother and he's too loud for her.

I honestly cannot even begin to count how many pieces of paper we've had to read, sign, and return. Probably 200, maybe more. By the time this is all over, we're going to have a lot more grey hairs and some serious carpal tunnel. That is, if it ever ends! Someday, maybe. Some people throw housewarming parties. We'll throw a "thank God we're finally getting the heck out of this house!" party.

12 Months of Avery

Dear Avery,

Today you are one year old. Happy birthday, precious baby girl.

I feel slightly teary as I sit down to write this. I truly cannot believe that it’s already been a year since you were born. On the other hand, I can’t remember what life was like without you.

You are such an incredible blessing. You complete our family just perfectly. When I found out I was pregnant with you, I literally could not breathe. I was overwhelmed, looking at our very full life, the wild 14 month old running around like a madman, the house that seemed to be slowly getting even smaller. I didn’t know how I would do it, how we could juggle all of this. I spent the first 17 weeks of my pregnancy so very sick, throwing up all over the country, sometimes 10, 20, 30 times a day. Then slowly, my excitement grew. I always knew I loved you, and that eventually it would be impossible to imagine like without you, but over the weeks and months, as I began to feel your kicks and hear your heartbeat, I felt the assurance that everything was going to be just fine. I was so excited when I found out you were a girl. Even after four ultrasounds confirming you were a girl, I still was afraid to believe it. We planned for your arrival and sorted through all the logistics and concerns. Then you were born. I loved you so much from that very first moment I saw you (approximately 30 seconds after I started pushing), even in the flurry of commotion that was your birth, I felt like the world stopped when the nurse put you in my arms and you nuzzled into my chest. You didn’t even cry, you had adorable little squeaks and sighs and gazed up at me with such beautiful, wondering eyes.

And here we are, a year later. You are all over the place, taking lots of steps but not quite walking. You are loud and full of zeal. You are independent. Even as you’re learning to walk, you don’t want us to hold your hands, you want to do it all on your own. You are very much a mama’s girl, that was your first word and sometimes you refuse to let anyone else hold you. You follow me around the house like an adorable puppy. You cry the second I leave the room and squeal the moment I come back. You are a charmer of all, but you’re also shy, burying your head in my shoulder as you smile at strangers. You have the loudest, most furious cry! And it’s the same cry for serious times and injuries as it is for things like running out of cheerios. You love dogs (or, as you call them, “gogs!”). You have delightful quirks that crack us up, like chewing on door hinges. You are obsessed with your brother’s toys, especially trains and cars, and ransacking any cupboard you can get your little hands in to. You think your brother is the funniest person ever. As you grow, you’re playing more together and becoming buddies, but you’re not afraid to take a toy back from him and you hold your own with him. You love music, almost as much as you love to dance.

You are tough and independent. I’ve known that all along. You proved that even today. You got sick over the weekend, and aside from some crankier than normal moments, you kept right on going. After a trip to the doctor today, we found out you actually have double ear infections. I knew you had a mind of your own even when I was pregnant, when you hid on the ultrasound and punched and kicked away the sensors. Then when my pregnancy never seemed to end, when I was still very pregnant almost a week late with no sign of the end coming soon, and then when labor was induced and you proceeded to enter the world in the fastest birth ever. I knew it when the lactation consultant called you feisty at six days old. You continued to show that independent streak when you refused to sleep through the night at 11 months, despite our best efforts. I love that about you, especially since you are also so sweet and cuddly (on your own terms, of course).  Although I may really regret saying this, I pray that you continue to embrace that independent side, that you’re always empowered to make your own (hopefully wise) decisions and be whoever you want to be.

We have had a wild year, full of an almost unbelievable assortment of events and every emotion possible. I’m glad I didn’t know everything that was in store for us this year, and even more thankful that we’ve made it through. You have taught me so much, baby girl. You would think I would have learned it all in your brother’s first year of life, but apparently I still had a lot to learn about trust and peace and joy and letting the small things go. I still have a lot to learn, so please be patient and please be kind.

We had a party for your last weekend to celebrate your first birthday, and also, more subtly, to commemorate the fact that we all survived the last year. The theme was rainbows and sunshine, which I chose because it fits you so well. You are full of life and color, and so happy and cheerful. At several points your dad asked me why I was devoting so much time and energy thinking about your party. I think it’s because I want you to have the best of everything in life.

I am so incredibly blessed to be your mother. My heart truly overflows with love for you, my sweet girl. 

Happy birthday, Avery.

So much love,

Mama

Measures of love

Last night, in the middle of dinner, Carter asked how much we love him. We have various answer to this, including as much as the whole sky, SO SO SO much, to the moon and back, etc.

Later, I asked Carter how much he loves me. His answer? 20 pounds.

Voicing his demands

Our dog has been on high alert lately. Really, really, extremely wound up, high alert. I think it's a combination of  re-listing the house, which results in 3 showings in one day, and a brazen little rodent invading out backyard (although I doubt he'll be sticking around after two close encounters with Stella this weekend). She's barking more than normal, and apparently even the littlest ears in our home are less than pleased. The other night we let her outside right after Carter had gone down for bedtime. Over the monitor, we heard a mini drill Sargent:

"Stella! No barking!"

Which was followed by another bark, and then another annoyed command:

"Stella! Do! you! understand! me?? I said... NO! BARKING!"

11 Months of Avery

Dear Avery,

Today you are 11 months old.

I cannot believe there’s only one month left until your first birthday. Time flies when you’re sleep deprived. It’s a good thing you are so cute because we really haven’t slept nearly enough in 11 months. (especially since you’re still sleeping in our room since you wake up your brother). One night last week you woke up at 3am, and there you were, standing up in your pack and play, smacking both hands on the bed and yelling “dada! dada! dada!” with the most adorable smile.  You’ve even spent a few nights this month playing at the wee hours of the night when the rest of us would really like to be sleeping. If you could just start sleeping better, that would be so kind of you.

Your nickname this month is Avery Monster. You are all over the place and into everything. You love all of your brother’s toys. You are obsessed with his trains, his trucks, his books, pretty much anything he’s playing with. We often have to warn him, “Carter, look out, Avery Monster is coming.” Once you reach your destination, you take over and destroy, a little bit like Godzilla. I’m sure you’re just making up for 11 months of your brother stealing your toys from you. I’m actually glad you can hold your own now, even though your brother may feel differently. He doesn’t mind too much though, your brother loves you a whole lot.

A few days before Easter you were really, really sick. You came down with a sinus infection and pink eye and you were teething all at once. You were so miserable and grumpy, but you were better just in time for our festivities. Those were not fun days for anyone, lots of whining and clinging and crying. It was just so sad to watch you so miserable, we were all relieved when you started to perk back up to your normal, cheerful self.

We had a fun Easter this month with a handful of different celebrations. In true Avery Monster fashion, you were absolutely obsessed with everyone else’s Easter eggs. Since they’re not a great toy for a baby, I didn’t give you any of your own. That did not deter you from trying to get to your brother’s stash, or your cousins’, or whatever else you could give your little hands on.

You took your first step last Friday. One, tentative, wobbly, unsupported step! You are so close to walking, but you’re a very proficient crawler so you tend to prefer that instead of even trying to walk. You are talking a lot these days, although we’re not really sure what you’re saying. A few words are more clear, specifically mama, dada, and bye-bye a few times. The past few weeks you’ve been yelling “Gob! Gob! Gob!” really loud, from the back of your throat. It’s so funny to hear such a deep growling from such a tiny, sweet girl. You love to play peek-a-boo, which you have now started initiating on your own. You use a hat or a blanket to cover your face, then laugh when you pull it away and look at us expectantly for our laughter. You are already a little comedian.

You also now know what “no” means and sometimes you listen. It is so funny to watch you pause and spin back around away from the forbidden object. Last weekend you were crawling around the corner to the dog water (of course!) and when I told you no you immediately changed directions and fled back to the playroom like you were surprised you got caught. I’m sure this obedience won’t last long, but it’s more than we ever got from your brother and it’s awfully cute. I’m sure someday very soon we’ll reminiscence about the days you used to listen to us when we told you “no” and you didn’t say it back to us, but for now we’re just embracing every sweet, innocent moment.

Much love,

Mama

Bad Ideas

As Carter continues to learn about the world around him in his own unique way, he often asks us, "Is that a good idea or a bad idea?" 90% of the time he already knows, and 95% of those he knows are bad ideas. So when we hear....

"Is thiiiiis a good idea?!?!" dissolve into high pitched squealing laughter, we don't even have to know what he's talking about to know that it is definitely not a good idea.

Another recent addition is "that's a silly thing!" Sometimes that refers to a truly silly thing, like Stella running crazed laps around the house or Avery chewing on her feet. Most of the time he uses it to describe known bad behavior. Such as:

"I was just sitting in my room and then I just jumped on my bed. That's a silly thing!"

"All my toys dumped on the ground! That's a silly thing!"

"Look! All the water jumped out of the bottle and on to my shirt! That's a silly thing!"

In the Spanish language, fault is typically assigned to the object (i.e. "the keys lost themselves"). Apparently that philosophy also applies to toddler logic.